The state of "being"

The state of "being"

A Poem by L'Enfant Terrible

Skinny, long face, big expressive eyes and nice hair. Smart and someone I can talk with about stuff. That's how I'd define my type.

It's not gonna happen, we're both in search of someone who can fill these needs. we probably could cover those emotional and physical necessities but never will be with one another, it'll always be in some other place, if we're successful of course or even only half supplied.

When we have the bourgeois privilege of speaking more than one language, we have the capacity of covering our nervousness, expressing what we think or feel without feeling so exposed.
I'm doing this right now am I?
Is that cowardice? Betrayal of my blood? Perhaps yes. Or maybe turns out we are more skilled to express this way because there's more technique than we lot could had when using our blood to write.
Maybe it's both of them.

Right now you're nowhere within my reach. Not that I'd get grip of you anyway.

A lot of people don't like rainy days, they say they're gloomy. I think they're reflective and sincere. It is in this type of weather when all the rubbish comes to the surface; the smell of sweat, deception and disappointment; the rotten taste of things.

In the tube one can see the face of the everyday routine.

The urban heart is like the asphalt that covers the city.
But still one can see it, specially there, one can see for a few moments the expressiveness written on the skin because nobody expects to be observed and discovered, and when they realise someone has been a bit of a peeping Tom, the asphalt reaches their face and hide, like some modest Eva.

There's something very lively on death, the smell of gas and behind the smoke, dozens of faces appear. The lonely quiet moment in the apocalyptic yet common murmurs urbanity serves as the three meals per day.

Opaque colours that shine better at night, because in the dark luminosity is when city has her morning coffee and is ready to blast.

And maybe, maybe, is then when I'll find you although not as I would like it.

© 2012 L'Enfant Terrible


Author's Note

L'Enfant Terrible
I write things for the people I'm in love with.

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phew, the beginning made me think this was a Craig'sList personal ad lol But naturally, this in someways is, yet is self-aware, and detests and self-deprecates while still yearning and dwindling down towards the bottom of things.

"A lot of people don't like rainy days, they say they're gloomy. I think they're reflective and sincere. It is in this type of weather when all the rubbish comes to the surface; the smell of sweat, deception and disappointment; the rotten taste of things."

Like this. I too enjoy a good rainy day...the air seems crisper, and it feels like a cosmic cleansing. Also appropriate weather for enjoying most of my fav bands like The Smiths and Joy Division...

"Behind smoke, dozens of faces appear" love this line.

This has a Baudelaire feel to it in many aspects.

Posted 7 Years Ago



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Added on June 20, 2012
Last Updated on June 20, 2012
Tags: prose poem, angst, urban, reflective, sensations, love, detachment, distance, city, rain, feelings, rant, prose, poem, poetry, attraction, failure, awareness, stream of conciousness

Author

L'Enfant Terrible
L'Enfant Terrible

Waiting For The Sirens' Call



About
Skinny rent boy is one of the girls. Hi, I’m Fer, your unfavourite young mexican pansexual genderqueer. Closet romantic, vegetarian, socialist, por-Palestine, Suedehead, ranter, multifacetic/.. more..

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